Malfoy Manner: Table Turning
by mrs.milfoy
Summary: Draco just wants a little control. Some dubcon, here...and minor bdsm play. But very minor, I think. However, I'm a filthy freak, so use your own judgment.


Malfoy Manner: Table Turning

The days after the 'incident' in the Slytherin dorms brought a series of revelations for Draco Malfoy. He was stymied. He watched his mother closely; the way she ingratiated herself to the elf when she ordered it about, the straightness of her back and shoulders when she sat at meals, how she cajoled and manipulated the solicitor to her designs, her briskness, her poise, strangeness and charm. He'd started to feel something as he ambled about the manor day in and out, occasionally signing a paper or reading a statement from Gringott's. He'd started to feel…slightly emasculated.

It was just an itch of a thing, at first. Easily scratched with self-supplications like "she's only trying to help" or "she's done all of this before." But it seemed the heir apparent to the Malfoy fortune was no more than a signature and…(he grimaced) a bed-warmer.

And there, too, she'd been rather overly controlling lately. It seemed the taste of lubricitous mastery she'd felt in his old dorm room was addicting. Just last night she'd had the audacity to glare scathingly over her shoulder at him and declare he should 'fuck her like he meant it.'

Just what the devil did that mean? It had thrown him off completely, really. He'd ended up pausing awkwardly, and she'd sighed in frustration before flipping him. He'd ended up on his back, her hand holding his to her breast as she rode the hell out of him.

He scratched his head and watched her drop primly into her dining chair. "Busy day, mum?"

She snapped her napkin across her lap. "No busier than any other, I suppose." She blew on her soup, spoon perched before her pursed lips.

Draco ate hungrily, despite the soup's temperature. "What has Gringott's written about?" He gestured to the parchment by her bowl.

"Oh." She nudged it toward him. "We haven't visited the vault in months. They want us to come perform an inventory of possessions inside."

Draco looked at the missive. They'd included a list of items added to their vault over the years. They were to verify all objects were accounted for, apparently. "Hm. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"I can handle it."

His spoon clanked against the edge of his bowl when he dropped it. He stared at her. She continued eating. It was nearly three minutes before she noticed his stillness. "Something wrong, son?"

His eyes narrowed. "I think I am capable of handling this myself, mother." He waved the letter.

Her lips pursed further. "I did not mean to imply that you are incapable, Draco. I assure you. I simply meant to…"

"To what?"

"To alleviate you of the burden."

"No burden." He folded his hands before his bowl and leveled a measuring gaze at her. "As the…master…of this estate, I would _like_ to handle it."

Her teeth clicked audibly when her mouth snapped shut. "Very well, _master_."

The tone was pure sarcasm. He didn't care for it one whit. "You wanted this, did you not, mum? For me to take responsibility? All that money we gave to Hogwarts… Or was that just more manipulation to bring us back into the Ministry's good graces ?"

Her nostrils flared. "Manipulation?"

"Oh, don't even try to deny it." He pointed at her. "Batting lashes at Kingsley Shacklebolt? Thousand galleon clocks for war heroes' wedding gifts?" He leaned in for the kill. "Tricking Minerva Mcgonagall to let us into the Slytherin dorms so you could fuck me in my Hogwarts bed?"

A growl gurgled in her throat. "Quiet!" She glanced about, but Mint was nowhere near. "I hardly consider myself a manipulator, Draco. I have never managed to encourage you to be decent!"

He laughed. "Decent? What's decent about us, mother? Or have you even manipulated yourself into believing we're normal? If you've forgotten, we fucked on my father's –"

"What is into you?" She clutched the table edge.

"Even upon insisting I grow up, you treat me like a child, mother!" He watched her take that in. "You insist on controlling me…in every way possible. Did it ever occur to you I might like to exercise my own control?"

"Did it ever occur to you I'm _bored_?"

He could tell she'd spoken before thinking. Her wide eyes expressed shock at her own boldness. She breathed heavily and her face flushed. But he was a little shocked, himself.

"Fucking hell," he whispered. "The cloak room, the dorm, the World Cup…" He shook his head. She looked away, mouth a tight line, embarrassed. What to do? What to say to _that_ revelation? His brain pulsed with possibilities. The blood traveled south. He tossed his napkin to the table and rose decisively. "Get up." He'd never heard such metal in his voice.

Her eyes widened further when she looked up at him. "What?"

He leapt onto the table and kicked her soup bowl towards the floo. "Draco!" That scared her…

Crouching before her, he gripped her upper arms tightly. "I said get up," he growled. She was tense, but light. He hauled her onto the table, awkwardly scrambling. She must have been mortified that her shoes were on the furniture. Her heels banged against the mahogany as she struggled to stand. But he held her on her back.

A shake of his arm and his wand slid from his sleeve to his hand. She lunged for it. "Mordeous!" He snapped.

"Ah!" The little stinging hex knicked her shoulder and she glared at him in shock. Anger was surfacing. He acted quickly.

Her wand was snug against her elbow under her dress. A quick rip and it clattered to the table. Their hands tangled for a moment. But Draco flicked it away. "Incarcerous!"

He was proud of the soft, silver ropes that slithered from his wand tip to her wrists. "What the fuck?" She cried. She kicked at him. He straddled her thighs as the bindings took her arms flat to the table, slightly spread, over her head.

She was heaving now. Her cheeks were a high red and her eyes glinted with malice. "Exactly, Narcissa," he hissed in her ear. "What the fuck…"

"Get me out of these bindings this instant." Her voice shook with fury and…something more.

He was hard as a rock. "I think they look good on you, mum." The ability to squeeze her breast, here on their dining table, free for her precious elf to see, excited him beyond belief.

"Stop this," she said tightly. "Not here, Draco, please…"

"Please," he repeated, tugging the hard nipple under cool satin. She groaned despite herself and arched against her restraints. "I love that word." He flashed his wand again. "Oris obturamentus." A thick gag of silver satin cinched round Narcissa's jaw, cutting between her sharp white teeth. She hissed and spat against it like an angry kneazle.

Draco ignored her and shrugged out of his jacket. "Bloody bothersome," he said. "Dressing up like a trained monkey just to eat supper in my own house." He loosed his cuffs and collar. "Formal dinners for two bloody people." He ripped her dress in a utilitarian fashion, followed by the corset underneath. He sat back on her knees and gazed at her, smiled slowly.

"That's just gorgeous, mum." She raged against the gag, hair fanning in all directions, pale and pristine against the dark wood beneath her. He spoke as he worked on her stubborn knickers. "I'm going to do things to you now, mother." She whimpered when he tossed the scrap of lingerie to the floor. "If it gets too much for you…" He leaned over her at last, tie dipping into her navel, and murmured directly into her ear. "If it gets too much for you, say _yellow_. Understood?"

His tone, his glare, brooked no argument. She growled against her gag until Draco wrenched her head back by her hair. "I asked if you understood, witch. Do you?" Her eyes seemed as black as raven down.

"Mm-hmm." She tried to nod. Her whole body trembled like a petal in a storm. He began touching and she began twitching.

"Such a pretty body," Draco observed. He trailed his fingertips from her clavicle to her toes, speaking all the time. "I have been remiss, mother, in allowing us to…stagnate. And I thought I was adventurous enough for both of us. Or are you perhaps evolving?" He pulled his wand and muttered again.

His mother's bindings obeyed his whim. She was flipped like a crepe onto her belly. She grunted, her nipples hardening further when they touched the cold table.

"Are you changing on me, mother?" She turned to him, the eyes beneath her hair flashed dangerously. "Looks like you are," Draco answered himself. More tearing, baring her pale back and rounded arse. Draco gave it a smack before waving his wand at the dining room curtains. They flew open and Narcissa tossed her head toward them, growling her protests.

Draco slapped a hand across her arse once more. "No worries, mum. No one can see inside. I just like seeing your wet pussy in the moonlight." Her face snapped towards him now. He saw the fear lingering in her icy gaze. "On your knees, mother."

Her forehead creased as if to say 'how?' "I know it won't be terribly comfortable, but I'm not asking. I'm telling." He flicked his wrist just out of her vision. She couldn't see anything, but heard something terribly familiar and chilling; a ringing, slicing sound.

"Hmph?" She tensed and looked desperately to her son.

"I said get on your knees, Narcissa." He brought the cat o' nine tails streaking across her thighs. The resounding smack – and her shocked squeal – echoed off the stone walls. She scrambled to her knees, outstretched arms making it difficult to find purchase.

Draco climbed again onto the table. He kicked off his shoes so he could circle his prey more quietly. Narcissa shivered at the feel of the whip's tails sliding over her back. "Aunt Bella taught me," he told his mother. "The wand whip. I never thought I would have opportunity to use it."

Cissa's breaths came fast and heavy. Her thighs stung. Her arms were quaking already from supporting her weight in the awkward position, and her head was bent so close to the table, she couldn't see her son at all above her.

But she felt his fingers find the swollen folds of her cunt and she jolted, cried out behind the gag.

"Wet, mum." She heard him suck his fingers. "Mmm." His fingers again, then he spanked her moist opening several times. "Do you want a cock in you?" He asked.

Tears seeped into the edges of her eyes and she shook her head, humiliated. The whip lashed her bum and she yelped. "I think you're lying," her son said. "Don't lie to me. Do you want a cock in you?"

She sniffed and nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Thought so." His feet nudged her legs apart til he stood between them. She heard him spit. Felt the cool globule hit her asscrack and descend slowly. Her eyes clenched tight shut and she whimpered. Draco knelt between her knees.

For a moment, his fingers traced the red marks on her cheeks and thighs. Then, they opened her up. She groaned as Draco worked his index finger into her tight pucker. His other hand slid around from her hip. He taced the delicate lines and folds of her pussy, dipping his fingers and teasing. She wriggled her arse against his finger and the erection she felt under his cotton trousers.

"Eager," Draco said. "Such a tight slut, too." Another finger pushed past her resistance. "Still _bored_, witch?" She bucked and squirmed while her son held her against him like a filly to be broken. "Hush," he said firmly. He finger-fucked her ass and worked her clit in tandem. She was panting and sweating like a dirty whore.

His erection bobbed against her thigh occasionally during the assault, and he had to admit maintaining his self control was getting difficult. He grunted and withdrew to drop his trousers. She whinged a bit. "Oh, don't worry, witch. I'm going to fuck you right now…just probably not the way you wanted."

She threw a look back at him and groaned pleadingly. Draco positioned his cock at her arsehole and began pressing. "You know the word," he said.

She shook her head violently. She wouldn't say it. Too damned stubborn. He knew, like himself. Not to mention probably curious. So he pushed in and listened to her scream behind the gag. It was incredibly arousing. And this was by far the tightest orifice he'd ever fucked on her.

"Shite, mum," he moaned. His fingers went back into play at her clit, occasionally dipping into her slit to gather nectar. He focused, knew what she liked and played her like an instrument. Soon, she keened. Her arms sagged til her upper body pressed against the tabletop.

"Good girl," Draco gave her an appreciative ass slap before wrapping her hips in his arms. He pounded into her mercilessly, feeding off her rabid, gagged vocalizations. "Hell, I'm gonna come in your arse, mum." She whimpered.

He nudged her knees further apart with his own. Her lower body fell to the table. His belt buckle mashed into her asscheek as he owned her. The tightening in his balls loosened his tongue and his inhibitions. "This is all I wanted, mum…a little…fucking…control. Oh, Merlin, yessss…" He came with a triumphant roar and collapsed atop her.

It was a few minutes before his vision cleared and his mind regained stability. His mother trembled beneath him, quiet. Draco pushed away from her hesitantly. A wand wave evaporated her bindings and her gag, but she remained still and quiet.

He worried, began rubbing her chilled back and shoulders. "Mother?"

"Hm?"

He blinked. "Are you….are you alright?"

"Yes, Draco."

"Are you…angry?"

"No, Draco."

"No? Really?"

He helped her into a sitting position. She pulled her knees up, seeking modesty in her torn dress. Draco scrambled off the table for his jacket and threw it around her shoulders. "Shall I…take care of your thighs?"

Off-handedly, Narcissa looked down at her pink, welted skin. She shook her head, still looked preoccupied.

Draco straightened his trousers and sat lotus-style, facing her. "Are you certain you're alright, mum? I didn't want to hurt you…frighten you."

"Do I really make you feel that way, Draco?" She met his eyes at last. "Emasculated?"

He winced. "Sometimes, mother. Yes."

"I shall endeavor to stop," she said.

"Don't!" Draco put his hands on her knees, smiling. "You…you can't help it, mum. I'm the one who needs to…communicate it, I think. To tell you before it becomes…" He gestured at the two of them. "This."

Narcissa gave a small, tired smile. "Very well, then," she said. "We both go to Gringott's Thursday."

He nodded and slipped off the table. "Come on down, mother. The elf will be in soon to tidy up. I don't want you mortified over being caught like this." She stepped into his waiting arms. He hugged her tightly. She squeezed back.

"I'd like a bath," she murmured.

"I bet you would," he chuckled. Avoiding stepping on the torn remnants of dress hanging from Narcissa's body, they climbed the stairs to their room.

Mint popped back into the dining room, head shaking. Disgusting, witches and wizards were. With no respect for the family unit…Oh, mistress was kind enough…but what a trollop! And young master? Well… Best to avoid _that_ displeasure if the punishment was so severe… The elf snapped its fingers, clearing away both dinnerware _and _the disgusting puddle of who knew what congealing on the table. No, Mint decided, the young master was indeed _not_ to be trifled with.


End file.
